2021-01-13 - The Little White Dress

A coffee shop in a small town somewhere on the coast in Washington State. Nowhere, figuratively speaking. Everywhere, figuratively speaking, for Janet Wilson who is sixteen years old and experiencing her first ride on the emotional rollercoaster that is falling in love. Her stomach dissolves into a flighty mess of butterflies whenever Jake looks at her. Janet's parents work for the lumbermill -- her father is a warehouse worker and her mother is in packing and shipping. Jake's parents are white collar people -- she's not sure what they do exactly but his father drives to work wearing a suit and tie and his mother looks so much in control in her pencil dress. Janet's heart skips a beat when Jake slips his arm around her and calls her 'my girl'. When he talks about maybe bringing her over to meet his parents sometime, she hears wedding bells. Everything is just so dreamy.

She just needs to make an effort. After all, everyone else wants someone as dreamy as Jake too. Janet is not insecure. She's realistic. Jake could do so much better but he picked her, and she's not going to disappoint him.

Janet walks into the Espresso Yourself with that breezy, happy smile of someone who's meeting her boyfriend inside. Someone who wants the world to see just how happy she is, how well she has done, how much it doesn't matter that she's not on the cheer leading team and that she's a boring brunette.

And for some reason, reality skips a beat.

It's almost as if somewhere, somebody was watching this little scene unfold and thinking

That boyfriend sucks. This is kinda boring. What if --

It's just a perfectly normal afternoon in a small coffee shop in Gray Harbor. Patrons inside enjoy their coffee; people come and go; a few sit around with their laptops because there is no Starbucks in this townlet, and the writers as well as the people who want to look like writers, tend to congregate here. Everything is normal.

Except

-- What if they were all gender swapped --

that reality in Gray Harbor is fluid at best and sometimes, things happen for no reason immediately apparent to the people involved, or the onlookers.

What if you were having a cup of coffee on some perfectly normal day, watching a perfectly normal teenage drama unfold, but you were -- different? What if you remembered walking in possessed of the usual array of bits associated with being masculine, but now that you glance at yourself in the mirror and the outline of your shirt is decidedly -- different? Or you distinctly remember going to the bathroom ten minutes ago and using the bathroom designated female because that's what you bloody well are, but now? Let's just say that you may have be watchful of how you sit down because there are new complications in your pants.

And somewhere, out there, somebody is laughing. Show just got a lot more interesting.

Just another day in Gray Harbor. Kailey is out for a walk. Morganna in her paisley moby-wrap(tm) strapped to mom's chest. The door pushes open and in she goes, not realizing the shop has become Something's playland. All that Kailey wanted was a nice Chai and a bagel with cream cheese on this nippy winter day. What she got was a chance many people want. To find out what it's like on the other side of the gender spectrum.

Immediately he notices a difference as the moby shifts and grows slack. The result of size 40Fs suddenly vanishing. Morganna lets out a surprised babble and squirms, sticking out their lower lip. Kailey isn't alone in being swapped and that baby is suddenly very confused and begins to whimper.

"What the fuck?" Kailey says with a sudden burst of irritability. Testosterone, it's a thing he isn't used to handling. His arms shift to securely hug the baby to him and Mew squeeks. Making Kailey realize her strength is a tad different too. "Fuck! Mew you okay honey?" The worried goo-goo voice sounding so wrong in his ears. It also causes the baby to start crying. Because that is not mom holding them, that is a stranger.

"Sshhh, sweety, Mew, it's okay honey..." A flustered Kaily begins the process of soothing. But decides after a moment to try something else. And Mew just cries louder. This baby is -not- gonna sleep and where is mommy?!? Of course people are proba ly starting to stare at the young man with baby and diaper bag/purse. Morganna (AKA Mew) is starting to writhe and get red faced as Kailey fumbles for her phone. Biting his lower lip while dialing. And it goes straight to voice mail. Of course. "Fuck!" He says again in frustration, earning a glare no doubt. Such language around a 6 month old! Tsk. Feeling lost and flustered and with their baby of super-wills Kailey looks around the cafe hopefully. Maybe another gleamer he knows is there and can...help?

Itzhak was in the bathroom--the men's bathroom. It's as he's washing his hands that he realizes his hands look weird. Not that different, still big and knuckly and covered in ink and scars and callouses, but...daintier, somehow. More gracile. Itzhak makes a face, holding his hands up, and that's when he realizes that's not all that's changed. He, now she, grabs at her chest, eyes going wide. Then she grabs at the most important thing--and it's gone. Something else entirely is there now! She swears in sharp Yiddish and bolts out of the bathroom. A guy coming in gives her a dirty look, which she gives right back with a 'you wanna make somethin' of it, pal?' sneer curling her lip. (Maybe that guy will find out in a minute what the deal is!)

Itzhak as a woman actually looks quite a bit like Itzhak as a man. Tall, lanky, and skinny, with a great beak of a nose. She's just a touch softer around the angles of her face, her hips a little more rounded, and her chest didn't exactly get big. A-cup at best, there. As her head has been shaved sometime in the last few days, and she's not wearing the cap she usually wears in the cold (it's in her pocket), she's rocking a serious butch tough girl look with her boots (now a bit too big) and tight jeans and now-oversized GHPD sweatshirt. She strides out into the coffee shop, a little unevenly because her weight is now differently distributed, and pins Kailey with a horrified look. "What. The. Fuck."

If Vyvyan had a dollar for every time he'd been told he had a girl's name -- okay, technically he almost certainly does, but not for any particularly connected reason -- but if it were for that reason, and he got another one each time, he could probably buy himself an extra suit by now. And he does not wear cheap suits. He wears very expensive, perfectly tailored ones, and his world is not in the least improved by the one he was wearing suddenly ceasing to be the latter. Too tight around the hips and chest; too long in the limbs; the added looseness about the waist is both minor and concealed, but oh, the shoulders. If there's one detail of menswear to get right to start with, it's the shoulders; nearly anything else can be made right as long as the fit's correct there. And now, it most definitely isn't.

Vyv will probably start being horrified about that at some point, probably not long after he gets far enough into the shock and distress to make some room for it. First, he's got a terribly misshapen chest to stare at (his own, so at least he won't also get slapped for it), and apparently a cup of coffee to manage to spill right across the table. It is, at least, not across himself, and it's enough to snap him out of the initial reaction and into something far more comfortable and customary: annoyance. "Hell's bells and buckets of blood," he-- she mutters as she rises to her feet, the accent just as crisp an octave or so higher. The cup is righted and a handful of napkins grabbed to deal with the immediate mess, handily providing something to focus on aside from the way her chest is moving wrong and the set of her hips isn't right either and, oh, there it is, nothing is fitting right. Down to the shoes, it's wrong. She squares her (too small) shoulders as she mops it up, taking a long, deep, silent breath and letting it out, and by the time she's stalking toward the rubbish bin -- with what can only be a sway innate to the rearranged body, since it certainly hasn't been seen before -- her chin is lifted and the shoulders pulling back to an effect both graceful and determined. ...and annoyed. That's not going anywhere.

It does let her survey the place, however, brows (now slightly slimmer) lifting as she takes in Maley and Mizhak, among the less familiar faces, and... look, almost everything's more amusing when it's happening to other people, okay? There's an upward twitch at one corner of her mouth that's entirely familiar even if the lips are... actually, they're not all that different, really. He's been considered a pretty man by some; he makes a rather pretty woman. He may be pleased about that if he gets around to it. And the chest's perfectly reasonably shaped once he allows for not being 'he'. "Not a bad look on you, at least," he remarks to Kailey, but the flicker of amusement can't stand up against the discomfort of Wrong for long. Not when screaming baby is added, at least. That's one of Vyv's absolute least favourite things regardless of sex . She finds herself taking a subtle step further away, and vaguely toward Itzhak instead. "This can't last. It's not real." Calm, definite. It's still at least as much self-assurance as meant for anyone else.

Skater boy, while not whip thin, is pretty much all lean muscle and not a lot's changed with the interference that Janet's outrage hath wrought. But there Bax is, still short and thankful for stretchy skinny jeans. Leaning on the counter there is a long, very important consideration about what he wants... or she wants. Vyv's heard at the table while this all important decision starts and now there's the sound of Itzil kvetching which, for now gets Bax to tune sown her(?) hearing aids. If Bax had any awareness today this might be problematic, as it is Bax is still mid-texting Daisy and orders something ridiculous off the menu that's more dessert than drink and having enough butterscotch in it to have him her flying around at mach 2 all morning.

There's a smile and a selfie sent and a pause when Something is very different here. The hoodie is ... a little roomier? The sleeves baggyier and longer but that just has her shoving her sleeves back up to 3/4 length absently. Bax is looking at the selfie and mutters, "Daisy why are you on this side of my phone?" Eyebrows go up with a flash of a smile to the barista who looks lightly confused now that the customer changed but the coffee is acquired and Bax turns back to the table and says "Hey guys Why's Daisy on my side of..the... phone...?" Looking around he blinks and tries to LOOK FOR the party they arrived with. She blinks and looks at them.

Oh. OOOoooooohhhh... Looking To Vyv's table Bax says without missing a beat, "Well... I never thought I'd live to see the day some lady actually managed to get into Vyv's pants... but here we are." Glancing around at the others he she looks to Kailey and asks "This body swap day? Why are you me?" Too amusing.

And here's Janet, checking her make-up with her phone's camera while pretending that she's just checking Instagram or something else that is totally normal teenage girl behaviour, and definitely not something she's doing because she's self conscious and perhaps a bit insecure. She at least is blissfully unaware of the changes -- the caterwauling baby gets an annoyed look over the edge of her phone, but that's the look of a teenage girl who thinks babies suck. Not one who has registered that until very, very recently, that baby was female -- and so was the parent holding it. Eventually the girl does clock that something is going on -- there's suddenly a lot of shuffling around and a yowling baby, and a profound what the fuck from the skinny lady, and why is that woman in the suit glowering like it's the end of the world, indeed -- and looks around. Her eyes fix on Bax with her long colourful hair, and she looks unimpressed.

Actually, she looks kind of impressed, but in that scornful way of a teenage girl who knows her parents would never let her dye her hair like that, and it's not like she wants to anyway, she at least has some self respect and dignity, thank you very much, so there, ha.

Enter Jake; a tall, blond eighteen-year-old with a tan -- in winter, at that -- and a casual bad boy look of the kind that at least the English fashionista and the streetwise New Yorker present both easily identify as a kind of retro Marlon Brando but with the level of authenticity that signals not Try it but My daddy has too much money. He's a tough cookie, this one -- if you can somehow picture a street gang of the sons of lawyers prowling the streets with their tennis rackets and their upturned polo shirt collars, looking to kick over trash cans and look very disapprovingly at people. Jake strolls in with that casual air of suave eighteen-year-old who thinks he's the best thing to happen to girls since -- whatever doe-eyed kid is breaking the heart of sixteen-year-old girls this winter, can anyone older than twenty-five even tell them from last year's thing?

He at least notices the strange assortment of people going through various phases of sudden-onset gender dysphoria. As he walks up to Janet he addresses her -- but just loud enough that everyone gets to hear his observations. "Fucking bunch of weirdos in here today, it's like Pride in Seattle, but with ugly people."

Janet titters obligingly and glances at Bax. It's the hair. Her own is a pretty dull shade of brown and she wishes her parents would let her at least get some highlights. Then she stands up and twirls. "Do you like my new dress?" No teenage girl wants her boyfriend to be looking at other girls -- not even if those other girls are older and have weird-coloured hair. Her dress is a nice, white thing that reaches just above the knees and she wears black yoga pants beneath because it's really rather chilly this time of year.

Jake looks her up and down. "I suppose. I hate yoga pants."

"It's cold this time of year," Janet points out with a giggle.

"They make you look cheap," her boyfriend returns.

And so it goes; a little jealousy drama, a little negging, a little bit of boyfriend assholery. Nothing unusual at all for an everyday drama, except that somehow, for some reason, five people(1) are a) subjected to occupying the same space as this remarkably trite storyline and b) those same five people are various degrees of unthrilled.

(1) The infant is a people too. Even if Vyv thinks otherwise.

Mailey removes Mew fully from the wrap and into their arms. "Ssshhh, ssshhhhh, hey sweety, it's okay," He coos to the writhing and red-faced babe. As Grantess addresses him he looks up from the child and stares. His jaw drops a bit and still-green eyes go wide. "Dude! Are you...you look...a lot like me," He stutters out in a voice that still carries a feminine edge and could probably sing soprano easy. Phone still in hand he brings up hus camera, much like Janet was seconds before. And stares at the baby-faced young man with impecably styled purple hair. Then takes a selfie of their shocked face and texts it to a certain someone. Who knows if it will go through.

"I'm...a guy..." He states the obvious to Grantess. Mew yowls his displeasure at the changes again and Mailey lifts the unhappy babe to their shoulder. Doing the bounce-and-pat as he softly sings, "Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true," And by the end of that line the tot is snifflinf and hiccuping, but no longer howling. Tears stain the rounded red cheeks and sop their parent's jacket quickly.

"Sooooo...just us?" He asks as his eyes flick from Mitzzy, to Grantess, and then Vyv where they linger a moment. She's hot. Mailey's cheeks suddenly go very red and he returns to soothing his child. Shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

Not too often someone looks at Itzhak and thinks he's a lady. At least, not when he's not wearing a dress. Today is also not solid 'lady' territory but at least 'female' so, close enough? Honestly it might be kinda hard to tell what gender she is, with the way she looks, tall and thin and shaved bald. She looks at Vyv and Bax--the latter turning down his, sorry her, hearing aids so Itzhak makes a face and a flash of a sign at her--and Kailey and then laughs, sounding a wee bit overwrought.

"Oy vey izt mir." Her voice is the same unique rasp, except, well, an octave or two higher. "Seriously? This, today, seriously?"

Jake rolls in and gets Itzhak's attention immediately, when usually she wouldn't give a shit, but today she's missing one of her very favorite parts and she might be a little aggravated about it. Jake is talking shit to Janet and about the 'ugly people' and Itzhak swings around to snarl at him. "Lay off, fuckboy, nobody asked you."

Oh good, Bax has finished ordering. Possibly adding 'hold the Y chromosome and can I have extra smartass on top today?' to all that butterscotch, if the remarkably good impression of the 'unamused' emoji Vyv is doing in that direction can be believed. "Do you know, I'm finding you considerably less attractive than usual at the moment," h--she informs the younger m--woman both in sign and with a particularly dry casualness the skater can at least stick in the 'unchanged' column of familiar things. If she decides in her Baxish way to notice that less than usual isn't necessarily none at all, well, the chef isn't going to pre-emptively head that off.

She glances around at Kailey's question, distractedly answering Itzhak's with, "Apparently, yes," before determining, "...and yes. Just us, I believe. Just the, mn. Brighter specimens." Unlike Jake, she at least has the tact to say it at a level for only those in her 'group' (and any observers who speak ASL) -- although, of course, she didn't have offending bystanders as a secondary(?) goal there.

And, in fact, Vyv would likely have been entirely willing to block out the annoying teenagers and leave them to their annoying teenagery if it weren't for that. Okay, and possibly if not for the same aggravation Itzhak's feeling about missing some favourite bits. Presumably not even just her own! As it is, though? She turns as well, less of a sudden swing and more of a graceful pivot, arms folded lightly one atop the other just beneath her breasts(!), and regards the couple. "Technically," she notes to Itzhak, "I suppose she did, for some bizarre reason. But only about the dress. The rest is purely volunteer work, and aren't we all just so very lucky to have the benefit of his pearls of wisdom? I'm sure he's spent minutes developing them." Her accent's doing that extra-precise thing it often does when she's annoyed, but this time there's a touch of saccharine sweetness that doesn't generally flavour any of her tones when she's... properly arranged.

"Incidentally, darling," she adds, this time directly to Jake, one hand lifting to tilt backward at about head-height, the other cupping that elbow in support, "either you've never attended Seattle Pride, or there's some terrible flaw in your vision and taste." The hand flips over and fingers curl to leave only the pointer extended, resting thoughtfully just beneath the curve of her jaw as she gives Jake a thorough and exceedingly critically assessing once-over for a slow beat, hairstyle to shoes and up again. Then the faintest smirk and mocking little lift of the brows. "I believe you've attended."

Bax grins walking back over looking pleased as hell at Vyv's response until wham! that's a hip into the corner of the counter that pulls a face. Yup, that smarts. There's a sign back of <<I see you-I.>> to the manner of 'yeah you enjoy that swift karma there. Ow. The conflict? Well Bax seems to blithely ignore it for now. The attention goes to Kailey-duder. "Well, Kail, we have good taste. What can I say. If you find my keys in your pockets tho just lemme know. I keep loosing em lately. Weirdest shit." There's a pauses to sip the coffee and she lookes up blinking with a wry smile to Jake and then back to Janet, "Don't listen to him. The dress is kickin and the leggings are super cute. Where you fined em?" Looking to Jake she smiles nicely and waits.

To him she signs shortly 'Tiny dick, go over there' "Hey, Shooter McGauvin, your shade is blocking the stuff. Can I get in there please? I'd like to actually drink my coffee before your hair starts molting all over the 9th hole."

There are other patrons in the coffee shop besides the teenage couple and the five and a half persons experiencing sudden onset gender dysphoria; and given that none of those other patrons are currently screaming, tearing at their clothes, or obsessively staring down their own shirts, odds are that this change has only affected the people who -- you guessed it. The people who shine. To everyone else, it's just another day ending in -y.

Jake, a young man of infinite genius and intellect, finds himself facing two women about whom he very quickly draws a few conclusions: They're ugly, they're probably dykes, he doesn't like dykes, and they're in his face. The last part in particular gives him trouble though it takes him a few seconds to decide to respond(2). He wavers a moment as if trying to decide which Ugly Dyke bothers him the most. Then, doing the math so slowly that it's almost painfully visible on his young face, he decides that Purple Hair is closer to his own age and hence, the one he wants to argue with.

"Oh look, something escaped from People of Walmart," he declares, staring at Grant with all the smug superiority and pomposity of a lawyer's kid who would probably be mortified if he realised that the presumed prole he's trying to intimidate is in fact another lawyer's kid. "It's okay, Rainbow Brite, we've seen you. You can go back to the circus now."

He glances at Janet as if to say look how I put that bitch in her place.

"Let's just go," Janet murmurs. The girl looks decidedly less enthusiastic about picking a fight than her self-assured boyfriend does. "I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it, Jake."

The odd little assembly are getting some stares from other patrons now; it's not likely to be due to sudden gender switches as much as the prospect of a good and entertaining shouting match about to ensue. This is the Espresso Yourself, after all, where most patrons tend to be quiet, decent folks and the occasional more or less eccentric writer. Bad behaviour might incur disapproving looks from the barista, or maybe even a scolding from Della the day manager.

(2) Who's surprised that this kid is not the sharpest hacksaw in the tool shed? He didn't even register the third woman dressing him down verbally, probably because Vyv used multiple multi-syllable words.

A smirk that looks smug on the more masculine face settles on Kai's face. His eyes scanning Grantess and Vyv both up and down even as Mew seems to sootge. Slowly. There are still sniffles, and hiccups, and that fist is halfway in his little mouth. But no more screaming.

Finally his attention is directed towards the couple. And those eyes scan Janet in a way most guys into girls...don't usually do. It's subtle but there.

Kai's smile turns warm and he says to Janet, "They were just standing up against this loose marble's assholery. Your dress, I agree, is lovely. And I wear my dresses with leggings all the time. You know you look good, you don't need him to be awesome." Of course he may have lost them when he mentioned wearing dresses...

To be fair, Itzhak absolutely looks like the kind of person to avoid picking a fight with. Woman or man, this Yid looks like ready-made trouble. So, naturally, Jake focuses on Grant when presented with a choice of who to insult. Itzhak could press it, now, get in Jake's face, and she wants to. Yep, she sure does, especially since Jake is hassling her employee. Only SHE is allowed to hassle Grant. (Okay, she gives Vyv special dispensation.) Her big, tattooed hands roll into fists.

But, well, Grant can handle herself, and Vyv's there too. Itzhak turns to Janet. Kailey's talking to her about legging and dresses, and although Itzhak could actually do the same, instead what she says is, "Sweetheart, is this guy botherin' you?" with a thumb jerk towards Jake. Badderin', in her accent.

It's almost impressive how Jake can manage to be wrong about so many things at the same time. Almost. Yes, if she were to be entirely forthcoming, Vyv would have to admit to not being on board with the dress-with-yoga-pants thing either. But while she's never been a reliable subscriber to 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all', change the first bit to 'if you can't say anything without admitting that someone irritating has a point' and the hit-rate goes up considerably. She'd also have to admit that male-Kailey isn't half bad as scenery goes, which is also unlikely to get remarked on if for entirely different reasons. And downgraded by baby-presence in any case. Those are regrettable in any sex or gender.

"If anyone needs him to be awesome they're clearly going to be disappointed," she remarks aside to Kailey, not only using polysyllables but also playing on grammatical ambiguity, so by evidence so far it may well be far enough above Jake's head someone should offer him a ladder. And then someone else could push him off it!

If Vyv looks like someone to avoid picking a fight with, it's not even in the way Grant might, let alone Itzhak. And she is almost certainly the least likely of that trio to mess up the fancy dental work Jake probably hasn't had metal-free for more than a year or two yet. But if her punches aren't literal, it still doesn't mean she's particularly inclined to pull them. The kid's lack of apparent understanding of her remarks and regard of him is faintly amusing but also annoying even before he starts in on Bax, and it turns out there's an even higher register of disdain she can radiate in his general direction. It's in the eyes, the level of the lids, the angle of the brows; the set of the lips, the tilt of the shoulders, that position of the arms, even the hips. It's quite definitely in the reprise of that previous appraisal, a fleeting pause of gaze on each flaw she finds, cataloguing and interpreting. And those equipped to notice such things might happen to catch a hint of glimmer in the air, in what may well compete for the vainest use of the Art in recently-recorded history. An illusion settles into place, not to make Vyv appear to be properly himself again, but rather to make his suit appear properly fitted once more, just now to her current form. It would probably take a mirror and at least a few minutes to make it truly meet her approval, but it's at least enough to get it looking flattering and, if not entirely bespoke again, at least well-tailored. Well-suited, even.

"Mn. Do your parents know you're out here cosplaying cut-rate Rebel Without A Clue at random strangers?" she inquires, the tone so matter-of-fact as to approach bored. "Well, given it appears to be Free Critique Day: it takes more than daddy's credit card to buy style, darling. One can't just point at the mannequins in Nordstrom each season, wave it about, and say 'I'll take one of each'. One needs some individuality. One needs a sense of colour and line. One needs," another critical look, this one zeroing in on a couple of the clearer unflattering folds and bulges of fabric, a feminine flutter of the free hand following the gaze, "a tailor." The look draws back upward, over neck and to face, all kinds of unimpressed. "One could use some moisturizer, too. Sunbeds aren't magic, you know, the baked potato impression's only going to get stronger with age. By thirty you'll look fifty, and be constantly pursued by fat men bearing sour cream and chives. If your dermatologist's not told you to cut back already, find a new one." A tiny pause, her gaze falling on the boy's forehead, where one might well imagine a pimple to sprout. Maybe several. The barest note of what could almost be sympathy -- or pity -- slips briefly into the delivery. "A better one. You're welcome. Now. I do believe you've been asked to get out of the way."

The gesturing arm folds delicately back down across the supporting one, and she watches the teen with calm expectation. That silence doesn't extend to the trio of her fellow glimmerers, however. Her-- no, his voice filters into their minds if not resisted, this version unchanged by what's happened to the body: [See that hideous shirt bulge at the belt in the back? May be armed. Watch for it.]

Grant could easily adore Vyv forever for going metaphysical catty-bitch. His? a simpler approach: glimmer that diner door to stay shut and just... oh shit Bax is recording this on his her phone with an amused cheerfulness again. "That's amazing there, Shooter. I'd honestly love for you to keep going because with your flashy little BMW and that really dope ass vanity plate? I cannot wait for our pals on WeTube and InstaThings and FriendZone to see what a charmer you are. My dad, civil rights lawyer's going to get a kick out of this. So show the world your good side so we can decide which InstaThing filter will look most flattering with with your future mug shot. Becuase threatening a bunch of women and a hot guy with a baby," yeah some personal bias, but like, rock out the purple Kail!, "with hate filled slander is totes gonna rock on your application to anything credible."

Record Bax recording this. The Baxter has rarely been more patient in all of Baxterdom. Vyv asks the douche canoe to move and not-Daisy-but-G.Baxter flashes a too pleased smile. Listen to Vyvyan. You're blocking the napkins, biz-botch. There's a pause and Bax looks to Janet sincerely, "The outfit is super cute. Too bad your arm candy is sour apple, lady." Now if Itzhak ups and kills the guy? That ain't on Bax. Well... preventing anyone from leaving right now might be. This won't be the first thing Bax has been accomplice to. Whoops! still filming cause this shit is greeeeeeeeeeat. Mental note: talk to Mac when she returns home to get this mass posted on all the things from ReadThis to the news.

I wear my dresses with leggings all the time may be the part that doesn't quite compute for poor Janet. Intellectually, the girl knows that there are men who like to wear women's dresses. There are men who like to wear whatever they like, and if you think it's too feminine for them, that's your problem. There are men who wear make-up and there are men who grow out hair and beard alike, and the one thing they all have in common is that they've never really registered with Janet before -- and certainly not in the form of a handsome, purple-haired specimen with an adorable little baby boy on one arm, telling her that he too likes to wear a skirt.

She stares blankly while her eyes are clearly trying to sync with her brain -- or, let's be honest here, her ovaries. "Thanks..? Do I know you? Are you from around here?"

The girl glances at her boyfriend and goes crimson; maybe not so much because she thinks Jake is all that -- though she clearly does, or at least she used to. Maybe it's the sudden-onset puberty that hit her like a ton of bricks at the sight of Kai. She looks to Mitzy with an expression of utter misery -- the look of someone who knows she just screwed up terribly, and right now, the bald lady is probably her best bet for someone to hide behind. Is the bald lady tall and terrifying and has tattooed knuckles? Yes. Is she sympathetic? Yes. The girl gets up from her seat and half scoots, half teleports to safety next to the woman with the New York accent and the hard stare.

She doesn't stop staring at Kai, though. It's actually a little unnerving. There's something almost driven in the girl's expression, as if somehow, Jake really doesn't matter all that much anymore.

Maybe Jake has reached a similar conclusion -- something that would, at least in his case, be an astounding feat of self-awareness. More likely he's replaying Vyvette's speech one word at a time while mentally trying to find a place to download subtitles. It's not that he's dumb -- while no genius, he's probably equipped with the same levels of computing power as most adolescents. It's that he's never really had to use that computing power, and from the look on his face, baffled and outraged in one, he's certainly not accustomed to being challenged.

Except, he was being challenged by some weirdo chick in a poorly fitting suit. And now his eyes are telling him that he's being scathingly and severely dressed down in no uncertain but highly multi-syllable terms by a lady who definitely does not buy her clothes off the rack. This lady looks like she belongs on the board of his father's company. She talks like it too. And, he must admit to himself while his ears go red, she sounds like the lady on daddy's board that daddy sometimes goes away for the weekend with, too. Clever. Sharp. Ambitious. Predator.

He doesn't like the feeling at all. Jake is supposed to be the big fish here. And now his girlfriend is siding with the ugly bald chick in order to eye fondle that purple haired piece of shit, and here's Jake being --

-- insulted (free critiqued) by an elegant but not at all friendly woman who is most assuredly insinuating (openly declaring) that his dress sense is cheap and careless, his skin is greasy, and his sun-kissed look originates not from a trip to Aspen but from a secret sunbed in the family's basement --

-- treated in a most unacceptable fashion by this lady when he realises that the other one, purple hair number two, is holding up her cell phone and recording everything.

It's not just the prospect of going viral looking like a complete moron. It's the smooth tone of Grantess as she calmly lectures him on just how viral he's going to go, and then tops it off with pointing out that while she may dress street, this little piece of purple haired trouble has her own daddy lawyer. Maybe a battle royale of daddy lawyers is not as amusing a prospect to consider as you'd think, at least where Jake is concerned. "You put that phone away right now, bitch!"

Jake launches himself forward and tries to grab the phone -- an effort which obviously fails since just about everyone present sees it coming, expects it to happen, and, in Grantess' case, easily steps aside.

For a moment it's almost as if reality itself holds its breath for a moment; as if something pauses to think.

-- Wouldn't it be awesome if they had to fight over the girl --
-- Wouldn't it be awesome if the confident chick in the suit was staring down a gun barrel --
-- Why not both?

Reality pats itself on its figurative shoulder for being this creative, even as Janet moves towards Kai with hooded eyes and mouth half open, clearly preparing to swoon into his arms -- and Jake reaches behind himself, to reveal that yes, that unflattering bulge in his shirt is in fact a Sig P365, a lightweight pistol that he is definitely not old enough to have a concealed carry license for.

-- And now it gets interesting.

Kai smiles lopsidedly in return at Janet. The girl doesn't look bad after all and hey, he swings a full 360 or whatever your preferred sexual nomenclature is. As people shuffle so too is the unhappy baby bundled into the sling. Sniffling and glaring with his bright green eyes up at mom. But the sling and swaddling seem to have the desired effect. That whole head against chest hearing heart beat helps too. The heartbeat is the same. That is good.

As reality begins to bend, though, Kai's eyes widen. He looks around in a frantic manner and wraps arms protectively about Mew. Janet is glanced at before he sees that gun. Without warning to the poor teen he moves to tackle her. One arm around Mew and hand curled protectively over his head beneath the sling, the other wrapping around Janet's shoulders and just letting gravity do the rest. Getting down and under a table is first priority. There is a gun. That is bad. That is VERY bad. That is whimpering as he tackles the unwitting pawn of Reality and tears of panic in his eyes. "Of fuck, oh fuck, we're gonna die," Kai is gonna need a second or two.

Panic and parenthood mean one thing right now, 'Protect the kids!'.

"Gun!" One barked syllable from Itzhak-Mitzy. She whips around in place, fast and slinky as a dancing copperhead, and she sweeps Janet into her arms, back turning towards Jake. She shoves to put her body between the under-table Kailey (smart boy, that Kailey) and Janet, separating them from Jake. Her Song uncoils in her, a resonant breaking snap like a cello string letting loose, rising like the tide. Of course she's doing this. Of course she's flung herself between a gun and as many people as she could protect. I will be your shield, after all. "Stay down," she growls to Kailey and Janet, "stay down!" The same words she has on her knuckles, but a rather different context.

Or is it?

Some things do not often happen to people like Vyv, in a life like Vyv's. Or at least, a life like Vyv's outside Gray Harbor. Shopping at dollar stores. Participating in laundromat conversations about celebrities. Having guns pulled and pointed at one's face. In fact, this specific thing has never happened to Vyv before. And yet... this is Gray Harbor, and it somehow manages not to be the most distressing thing even to have happened to him her in the last half-hour. Knowing the potential was there probably helps; it's far less of a surprise when one's already spotted it, yes? Particularly when one continues running one's mouth. And one's b...girlfriend is making sure the owner of the gun knows not only how unflattering the less literal look is on him, but that everyone, everywhere, is going to get a chance to see it. Judging by the half-lowered lids on the sidelong glance she gave Bax, and the tiny upward twitch at the corners of her lips, the appreciation here is mutual.

So it's not the sort of shock it might be at other times, but the truth is that for all the Veil shenanigans the last not-quite-two-years have thrown her into, part of Vyv didn't truly expect a spoilt high school kid to actually draw that thing. Carrying it around is one thing, but drawing it? Maybe actually shooting it? Though practice keeps her expression from changing much, the surprise delays her reaction a beat too long for what she'd imagined she'd do, requiring a swift reconsideration of her options. It's good there's others to take on direct protection of relative innocents, because the chances are good that doesn't even enter her mind. What does, though, is a mental grasp on the gun, firm and definite and shoving it right back into the kid's pants whence it came. Whether his hand goes along with it or not, she doesn't particularly care. That's up to him. But it is getting resheathed, none-too-gently, and it won't be cooperating with any attempts to move it again in the near future. "Put that thing away. Nothing you can whip out of those is going to impress any of us," she snaps.

Grant puts his smart money that the thing that's never happened to Vyv before is that he's never had a laundromat conversation about celebrities. Yes the same person who parkoured up a damn robot to ride a robodog into a wall in an alien world is calmly filing the 'Chad' countering the petulant 'daddy' card with their own. Nabbad! and really ALL BAX WANTS is for asshole here to mooooooooooove from in front of the goddamn lids and stirs. Really was not a hard ask. Is Abitha getting a copy of this later when Bax gets home? Yooooou bet your ass.

There's a hiccup in this guy generally being shitty ( he ain't the first and others have done it better. Sorry Jake, your'e not a badasss, you're just a putz). That hiccupis steel and has a bit of a recoil on it and the colour draining out of Grant's face. A few things are problematic. At the bottom of the list there's a phone AND a cup of coffee in hands. Then there's a baby in the damn room, and jsut above that there's Vyv it's pointed at.

It's not the first time Grant's had a gun pointed her way (see the no good very bad day that ended in a trailer fire and melted rollerblades and a total buzzkill), but it's the first time one's pointed at someone she cares about. The words are quiet and there's just... astonishment (still filming), and trying not to cry or throw up right now, "Jake, what the fuck man there's a baby in the room." The confusion and emotion are absolutely on overdrive and Bax just stands there trying to understand. "It's... it's like small and under warranty still. In a coffee house?This is who you wanted t-to be? Someone that went to jail to be someone's prat because they shot a baby and a few people in a coffee house??!" Yeah there ...are tears here. Goddamn there was a body change but where in the veil did the heavy mascara just come from??

This was not how today was supposed to go.
The only comfort is that Kai, baby, Janet, and Itzhak are diving under the table (and hopefully not making that a pancake baby there). Bax's voice is tryyyyyyyying to be calm and is very ever as she stands very, very still. "Vyvyan?" She watches the gun go BACK in Jake's pants. Blinking she says quietly, "Jake, you should probably...just... go... toke one up and super think about this shit." There's a deep breath and a short sniff trying not to move too quickly because dumping coffee at the guy may actually get a baby or real adult person killed.
(yeah he's been hanging out with Vyv a bit.)

Everything suddenly happens a little faster than anyone anticipates.

Janet is of an age where unexpected close physical proximity to a handsome and exciting guy like Kai might have been chalked down as a definitely bonus to an otherwise not entirely great afternoon. There would probably have been a great deal of giggling and blushing and seeing if she could accidentally get her hands on his backside -- but even teenage hormones and curiosity can be elbowed aside by stark reality. In this case the fact that yes, she is being shoved under a table with a hot guy, but the reason that she is being shoved is that her jealous boyfriend intends to try to spray the room with hot lead.

It's a sobering thought. Janet probably needs to reconsider her notions of how cool Jake is. There might be a few other things she needs to reconsider as well, no matter how well-off his family is and how great his mother looks in a pencil skirt. Priorities and suchlike. Now is not the time to make those considerations, though. Janet is forcibly reminded when Kai's well intentioned shove and Mitzy's jumping in front causes her to bang her head hard against said table. For a moment she sees stars and little yellow birds circling her head. Then she finds herself nestled up against Kai and hurting entirely too much to enjoy it. Life is unfair like that.

At least it makes her easy to protect; the silver lining is that Janet lies quite still in Kai's arms which in turn means that Mitzy can focus her attention on the scene in front of her without having to worry that the people she's trying to shield sneak off in the meantime.

Jake's little piece flew out of his pants to point at Vyvette -- and now it flies right back where it comes from, much as if it took one look at the lady in the well-tailored power suit, yelped in terror, and dove right back into safety; a sentence in which every innuendo and parable is absolutely and definitely intentional. Rarely has a young man faced such immediate verbal emasculation on such short notice, and with such terminal delivery to boot.

He fights it, with the power and ability of a high strung teen driven by hormones and irresponsibility; which is to say, not very effectively.

His fingers squeeze the piece tight in the attempt to resist its movement back to his pants.

They pull the trigger.

Reality does that little twitch again, almost as if someone got bored and contemplating switching channels. For a split second it's as if Jake's thoughts are being broad cast --

-- I'm someone who fired a gun in a room full of people and there's my girlfriend and a baby hiding under a table and oh god what am I doing there is no way dad can get me out of this that purple chick is going to ruin my life I am so much done for fucking hell I'm gonna be to Gray Harbor what Brock Allen Turner is to Stanford dad is going to skin me alive --

-- as the teen waffles in indecision.

He's lucky, though. The shot may have ruined his pants and knocked a hole in Eleanor Roen's nice floor, but it missed his foot and leg. Who knows? Maybe once the shock settles, Jake McCauley will make the choice to learn a life lesson and leave firearms to those who know how to handle them. Or maybe he won't, in which case, one can only hope that he manages to do a minimum of damage to other people's lives before he inevitably ends up incarcerated or dumped in a ditch somewhere.

Other people, ordinary people, people without the song or the shine, leap up from their chairs, reach for their phones, throw themselves down, dive for cover -- exactly as you'd expect when suddenly, a couple of teenagers arguing ends up in gunfire.

The most important thing to Kai in this moment was Mew. Secondly was himself with which said baby was snuggly attached. Third was Janet and her gangly teenage self. In truth tackling someone is messy. Elbows go into ribs and there are bumps and scrapes. But at least the trio was "safe" as his shield sprang up around the table. And his slightly panicked face peeked out and...that was Mitzy's butt.

There is a second or two of staring that Kai somehow can't help. Then Janet is yelping and trying to brain herself on the table and Mew is screaming in fear at the sound of the gun going off so close. They were on the ground and pants don't muffle that much. Kai secretly wishes the bullet casing to burn Jake nicely in his privates. All the while becoming far too aware of his own new ones. Because his body has realized there is a fine young woman laying against him, and his adrenaline is already surging, so lets add embarassment to the mix.

"THE FUCK!" Kai yells in surprise and more anger than fear. He attempts to politely juggle the limp noodle, known as Janet, gently to the floor. All the while Mew is screaming bloody murder at this new upset to his wee day. Green eyes glare from between Mitzy's legs at Jake and that adrenaline and new surge of testosterone keep him yelling.

"You fucking fuck," Kai has also lost some of his ability to articulate well with the testosterone. 'Must protect from threat! Maybe fight?!' Screams his body and his lips peel back from even white teeth. "You are- why I- FUCKER!" He starts and stops because some part of that brain is still working and recalls the video being recorded. Then the words come to him and he shouts from beneath the table, "You know that discharging a firearm in public is a FELONY right, lawyer-son?" Kai privately curses the teen, May the hot casing burn your balls and make sure ya can't breed!

With a growl Kai returns his attention to the sobbing and newly-upset babe in his arms. "Hey, hey, shhhh, shhhh, it's okay sweety. I got you. I got you..." He coos and gently rocks as best he can in the confined space. A kiss to the top of the babe's head before he finally asks Janet, "You okat?"

Mitzy has a great ass, especially in those tight jeans. Even tighter, now that she's got thigh and hip to take up more room. That denim is painted on.

She's waiting, her lean muscles coiled like snakes, eyes unwavering from Jake. Waiting for her moment. When the gun goes off, she does the exact opposite of everyone else in the room and lunges for him. Left fist first, DOWN coming for his face--and she damn near slips out of her too-big boots. The coffeeshop gets treated to a very bad Yiddish word as she stumbles. Somehow she manages to recover enough to get where she was going and send that big bony fist where she meant it. POW right in the nose!

Somewhere in the back of Vyv's mind a note is made: in future, if taking control of the movement of a gun, do not forget to also and specifically do something about the trigger. The front of Vyv's mind, however, is somewhat more concerned with what is, and right now, what is is a ringing in her ears, raised voices, the smell of gunpowder, people scrambling, Mitzy coming in like an avenging fisticuffs angel, and Bax's inexplicable mascara getting ruined.

The depth of the next breath is a subtle thing, low-key but there for interpretation should anyone for some reason find her the most arresting part of the current tableau. Her mental grasp on the weapon shifts, the focus now aiming to keep both the overall device and its potentially-moving-parts from getting from potentially to actually, should the kid's indecision settle itself the wrong way. "Don't make it worse," she advises him, though he's probably too busy seeing either stars or absolutely nothing after that hit from the mechanic to take much of anything under consideration. It's not a snap this time, exactly, though it's too cold to qualify as any sort of sympathetic. It's good advice. Take it or leave it.

It's the best she can muster up for him right now, too, certainly when she can see how pale Bax has gone, the stance, the tears spoiling the unaccustomed eye makeup. Her jaw tightens a touch, and she looks to one of the bystanders who've reacted by reaching for their phones and instructs in a tone that clearly expects unarguing compliance, "Call the police." Could she do it herself? Of course, and she might even be able to keep enough focus on the gun at the same time. But apparently more important right now is, after a fractional hesitation, holding out a hand to Bax(ette).

There's a lot to unpack here and when you roll with insufficient emotional insulation at best like Bax does? It's incredibly overwhelming. It all comes crashing down . The noise of all the clinking spoons, everyone trying to talk at once. The kitchen sounds of the coffee grinder droning in the mics of his hearing aides, everyone moving at a rapid place, loud noises, yelling, the gun in Vyv's face, crying baby, and ALL GRANT WANTED WAS A STIR, A LID, AND A CUP SLEEVE FOR HIS ...HER GODDAMN COFFEE that is NOW burning her fingers from gripping.

The phone may or may not be in focus when the BANG! goes off and the room gets terrified in unison. Brown eyes are just terrified move from Jake to Vyv, weeping wet and full of emotion and in fear of finding a red bloom staining the suit. Hoping, afraid, and confused being utterly unable to move or DO Bax tries to muster up their mettle and finds all reservoirs entirely depleted and bereft of any ability to cope.

Jake looks pretty damn shocked too. There's a squeak of noise that is Bax trying to talk with shivering jaw and wibbling lip in confusion and quiet horror, "D-do.... not... j-just h-how....dare you..." and quietly her eyes close as the sobs shudder like whispering thunder in her chest just trying to not spill coffee on herself burning her hand too. That line works so much better when it comes from Vyv directly. Lips press tightly together to keep the shock and adrenaline from chattering her teeth the cup is set on the nearest table with an almost near miss.

The camera is still on but getting everything in frame is already handled and also no longer her focus anymore. A 'fun lunch downtown with friends' is no longer fun, and any whimsical inspiration to draw while people watching has been shot dead with the finish on he floor. Coffee, cooler, drips the last couple drops off her fingers where her hand was burned. Though too afraid to move, not knowing what Jake or the gun are going to do Bax's fingers find Vyv's ans not looking at anyone, just the floor she moves, slowly, and carefully to Vyv hugging her and shaking like a leaf, but standing between Jake and Vyv, back to him. Forehead finds the chef's collarbone almost waiting to get hit like a brightly coloured paper target. Fingers tighten and bunch up the back of the jacket with enough care not to include the two fingers with coffee drips.

Quietly a wavering voice says, "Vyv? I...I want to go home." Spaceboy's synapses are burned out for the day. Great job, Jake. you killed a perfectly groovy afternoon.

Limp noodle is not a bad descriptor for Janet. She clings to Kai and Mew and from the expression of her face it's obvious that she is re-evaluating some of the lessons that her very young self has learned from life: Being wealthy doesn't mean you can't be an asshole. Looking good, same. Acting cool, also same. Mum looking like a boss in her pencil dress, ditto. Odds are that Janet will grow up and find herself dating some purple-haired artist who is also still in high school, but whoever he is and regardless of how many piercings, tattoos, and attitude issues he may turn out to possess, he's not in any way interchangeable with a Jake.

It's probably better that way.

Jake's not going to be so pretty for a while anyhow. His nose splatters all over his face at the impact with Mitzy's bony fist; a spray of blood launched in the direction of Vyvette who may in fact need to update her illusion of an elegantly tailored power suit to an elegantly tailored clean power suit.

The boy hits the ground with an unflattering thud of face against concrete floor. He is not disarmed -- because that gun is not leaving his pants; it is all but part of his pants at the moment. (When those pants are tossed to goodwill, some confused hipster is probably going to find them on a rack, wondering why there is a Sig P365 fused to the fabric, almost like a bizarre fashion statement.) Jake is not going to be considering his sartorial choices of where to keep a firearm -- or whether he should keep a firearm in the first place -- anytime soon; his skull is likely intact but the concussion is going to be epic.

And at last, the bystanders, the civilians, the normies, the people without special talents, start to react. Some do what Vyvette told them to do -- they get on their cell phones, hitting 911, talking about a teenage robber at the coffee shop. Others snap pictures. Some dash for the door, determined to be six miles away when the police inevitably arrives. Somebody tells the responder that an ambulance may be necessary too -- the robber went down hard.

It's another normal day in another normal American town where some local kid just did something stupid to impress his girl. He'll probably get off with some community service and a hefty fine -- maybe some headlines and a few unflattering comments from talking heads about the need for gun control contra the need to protect the rights of citizens to defend themselves. If there is any lasting debate, it'll be derailed into the usual arguments.

Unless, of course, Grantess Baxter's video goes viral. Who knows? It's got the potential, and she knows the right people to make it happen. When she's done falling apart, maybe.

Life's ready to return to normal except for that one little issue.

-- But it's fun. And they look good like this. --
-- Maybe Kai gets with Janet --
-- And Vyvette learns to love Grantess in spite of him being a girl now --
-- I wonder what's on TV --

And just like that, the universe seems to lose interest in four people and their current gender dysphoria situation.

An ambulance arrives, and anyone who actually suffered a brief spasm of compassion for the well being of one Jake can breathe easy; the EMTs are pretty sure he's just hit his head hard. A couple of police officers remove his firearm and go around asking questions, taking statements. Bystanders all say pretty much the same thing -- the kid there got into an argument with the lady in the tailored suit and before anyone could stop him, pulled a gun on her. Everything happened a little fast but the other lady, the bald one, knocked the kid out. Somebody ought to give the bald lady --

-- guy? androgynous person? --

-- a medal. Reality tries to reassert itself. For a moment, everything flickers, as if the universe itself cannot quite decide what shape people should be.

There is a great deal of gently disengaging from the clingy Janet after Jake hits the floor. Kai giving a satisfied grunt and nod before turning his eyes back onto the distressed young woman. Who he gingerly removed from beneath the table and to a chair. "Can I get some water or chamomile or something please?" He calls towards the flustered baristas. Mew is screaming still and then suddenly gets this very confused look on his face. Her face? The baby suddenly seems less unsettled and turns her green eyes on mom (dad?) with this dumbfounded expression. The kind you wish you could capture on camera to use as WTF emojis or gifs.

It is the sudden ceasing of crying that has Kai glance down at the baby. Checking to ensure they are all right and he gets a big gummy grin in return. "You okay?" He asks with the twist of a smile as Mew kicks in something akin to excitement. Their world feels mostly normal again! Even if mom has a very fine 5-ocklock shadow and shorter hair. And no boobs...that might be a problem for later though. "You're okay," He is assured and leans in to press a kiss to the tiny brow. Instead he stands up and pulls out his own cell, just like everyone else, and starts texting again. The thing is...it seems others are changing back and he looks down, then up, then down again. Then around the coffee shop arms spreading akimbo with palms up, "OI! The hell dudes?" She just randomly shouts at the ceiling. At least as far as the normies are concerned.

Itzhak has his usual equipment once again. It happens in a rather troubling feeling of bloop! in her pants, in a way no blooping should happen. Her eyes fly wide as Jake goes tumbling, and she pops up on her toes with a startled squeak. It's his usual self who comes back down, and he grabs his chest, groping around to make sure there's nothing extra.

He manages, however, to refrain from grabbing his crotch.

While Itzhak would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed he didn't get to take any new body parts for a spin, well, it's an undeniable relief to have his old reliable parts back. His boots fit again and his jeans no longer feel like they're crushing his hips. Whew.

Bax gets a worried glance, but Vyv is there to help. Good. Kailey gets a brotherly thump on the back. Then Itzhak turns and crouches neatly to see Janet, under the table, and offer her his hand. "Hey. You're okay." Now he's definitely a guy, his voice dropped into his chest and that chest broad once again, his face sharpened into masculinity. Not to mention the whiskers. "C'mon out."

Vyv takes a step and turn as Bax presses in, trying to bring her along, unwilling to allow the skater to remain a body-shield even if the chef's pretty confident the gun's no longer a threat to them. Still, the suit is saved by the same instant reflex that first let her (well, then-him) in on his powers: a wave of Physical power shielding his body and redirecting the spray of unpleasant liquid around him. With so much focus on other things, it only happens at all because there is an instinct for it in there, and it's damn close, blood spattering to with in a fraction of an inch around the shoes and barely missing the trousers to land on the floor behind her. Does she even realise she did it, this time? Quite possibly not. First there's all the fuss that is the violence and the beginning of the bustle around them, and then there's that feeling of, uh, bloop...

The chef is absolutely not disappointed he doesn't get to take any new body parts for a spin... his own or anyone else's. There is, in fact, an uncharacteristically clear exhalation and shoulder drop of relief as everything feels physically right again, including the form wrapped in his arms and shaking against his now-properly-formed chest. The illusion is dropped; now he's just himself in his actually elegantly-tailored suit again. If this is at odds with what people report... well, Gray Harbor history suggests that quickly enough, the consensus will make up for it. Perhaps they never were women; perhaps the kid was just hanging out in that homophobic/misogynist nexus labelling them that way. That's gotta be it, right?

"We're all right," Vyv murmurs quietly to Bax, before bothering to get around to taking a quick assessment of first Itzhak and Kai(ley) -- huh -- then Janet, then the room at large, "Everyone's all right. And home is fine. I do have coffee." Is it twelve kinds of butterscotch? No, but if the patissier can't find a way to handle that if necessary, no one can. Given that assessment, he can't have failed to notice that there are quite a few people around, and a lot of them keep looking their way, but he ignores it so soundly that an onlooker could almost be briefly convinced he's the one who's right and they aren't really there. He tilts his head downward, enough to let his forehead touch the shorter man's for a moment, and the fingers of one hand brush lightly down the fabric that rests over skater's spine. "We're all right," he assures again, even softer, and the fingers linger in the small of Grant's back even as he straightens back up and allows the rest of the world get back to existing.

"You are all all right, yes?" he asks toward the other glimmerers. Doesn't hurt to get confirmation. Particularly when one of them is still looking... not quite her usual self.

Grant is not okay, but he's going to get there. Vyv is making sure he's not actually a human shieldwhich is good because Grant entirely failed to try to focus and pull a shield up aorund himself. The rare, much needed contact gestures serve as the solace in this small, quiet meltdown. Everyone's handling everything else and for a moment he just lets Vyv put the world back in order, shaken and stirred. It's really not every day one can catch Angry Chef in an open act of caring, much less PDA. Small motes in time like this the very odd couple just keep... working in some sort of perpetual balance in one another's orbit.

Forehead to forehead, though it isn't long, breathing starts to return to more normal and his fingers release on the lines of Vyv's jacket. The police and many are asking a lot of questions and Grant, for a change, is pretty damn quiet waiting for all the movement to stop. The police come by and Grant signs his answer to them just pretty done with people making noise. words are quiet and if Vyv wants to help him add to it he's not turning it away. He just hands the officer his id and says quietly, "I ... recorded it."

His eyes look for Kailey and Itzhak and his friends are...as animated as ever which is a small-wait...okay Kailey's his twin... okay that's kinda entertaining and that little part of his brain that forms dumb, bad, and awesome ideas comes back online. Looking back to Vyv he looks ...disappointed? he looks at his finger and up to his more orderly half, <<Coffee totally spilled. Finger burned. >> . He leans, Police figuring out what to do with the captured footage. Bax doesn't wander away from the fingers at the base of his spine leaving that his anchor of reality. Finally left alone he slides an arm around Vyv's waist hanging out there until they can leave and getting inventory, properly, of all things Kailey and Itzhak. <<"Sorry he ruined lunch guys. We'll ... try again. not now.">> Because right now he' s going to go introvert really fucking hard for the rest of the afternoon.